by Steve Berry
They stepped inside and stared at the opulence.
He marveled at how long it must have taken to create something so extraordinary. Rows of diagonal bins lined the tiled floor, broken by narrow aisles, each brimming with scrolls. He stepped to one of the bins and slid out the top bundle. The document was in remarkable condition, but he dared not unroll it. He glanced inside the cylinder and saw that the writing was still legible.
“I never knew something like this could exist,” Pam said. “It’s beyond comprehension.”
He’d seen amazing things, but nothing as wonderful as the sight of all that this room held. He noticed high on one of the shiny red walls more Latin words. AD COMMUNEM DELECTATIONEM. For the enjoyment of all. “The Guardians accomplished something extraordinary.”
He noticed a carving in one of the walls. He stepped close and spied a ledger of what lay ahead, the rooms identified in Latin. He translated each one out loud for Pam.
“Five rooms,” he said. “They could be anywhere.”
Movement at the far doorway caught his attention.
He saw George Haddad, then McCollum.
“Get down,” he said to Pam, and he raised his weapon.
McCollum saw him and shoved Haddad to the ground, aiming across the chamber and firing. Malone dropped to the floor, using the shelves between them for cover. The bullet dinged off the granite columns behind him.
“You move fast,” McCollum said from across the room.
“Didn’t want you to be lonely.”
“The Librarian kept me company.”
“You and him get to know each other?”
“He talks too much, but he knows this place.”
He wanted to know, “What now?”
“Afraid you and the ex have to die.”
“I told you that you shouldn’t get on my bad side.”
“Bring it on, Malone. I’ve come this far, I don’t plan to lose now. Tell you what, let’s make it a fair game. Me against you. Right here. If you win, the old man and the ex are safe. Deal?”
“You’re making the terms. Act on them.”
HADDAD LISTENED TO THE EXCHANGE BETWEEN SABRE AND Malone. These two needed to settle their differences, and he needed to repay his debt. He thought again about the Guardian from all those decades ago when the young man had stared up at him with eyes full of resolve. He simply hadn’t understood. But now, having seen the library, having become its Librarian, he knew what that fateful soul from 1948 knew.
He’d killed that good man for no reason.
And regretted it all his life.
“STAND UP,” SABRE SAID TO THE LIBRARIAN, AND HE WATCHED as the old man rose. “All right, Malone. I’m acting. Here he comes.” He motioned with the gun. “Go.”
The Librarian walked slowly down the aisle between the diagonal bins. Sabre held his position, crouched behind the end of one of the rows.
Thirty feet away the Librarian stopped and turned.
The eyes that stared back penetrated him. He wondered about the old man. Something about him signaled danger, as if the soul behind the eyes had faced this scenario before and was not afraid. He debated killing the Librarian, but that might spur Malone on.
And that he did not want to do.
Not yet.
Malone was the only obstacle left. Once gone, the library was his.
So he was relieved when the old man finally walked away.
EIGHTY-ONE
WASHINGTON, DC
STEPHANIE PARKED DOWN THE STREET FROM LARRY DALEY’S house, and she and Cassiopeia walked the remainder of the way. No sign of Brent Green or anyone else. They approached the front door, where Cassiopeia again picked the locks and Stephanie disarmed the alarm. She noticed that the pass code had not changed. Daley had left it alone, even after they’d gained entrance. Either foolishness or more evidence that she’d misjudged the man.
The interior was quiet. Cassiopeia swept each room to make sure they were alone. Stephanie made a stop in the office alcove where they’d found the flash drives. Then they both waited by the front door.
Ten minutes later a car parked outside.
Stephanie peered past the curtains and saw Green emerge from behind the wheel and walk toward the front door.
Alone.
She nodded at Cassiopeia, then opened the door.
Green was dressed in his typical dark suit and tie. Once the attorney general was inside, she closed and locked the door. Cassiopeia took up a position near one of the windows.
“All right, Stephanie. Can you tell me what’s happening?”
“Did you bring the flash drives?”
He reached into his jacket pocket and removed them.
“You listen to the recordings?”
He nodded. “Of course. The conversations are interesting, but in no way incriminating. There’s talk of the Twenty-fifth Amendment, but it’s just that. Talk. Certainly no conspiracy is either discussed or implied.”
“That’s why Daley gathered more,” she said. “He told me that he’s been looking at this for some time.”
“Looking at what?”
And she noticed a flare of irritation.
“The conspiracy, Brent. The vice president is planning on killing Daniels. He’s set the whole thing up to happen during a surprise visit Daniels will make next week to Afghanistan.” She watched as the words, which would confirm that she knew what she was talking about, took hold.
Green remained stoic. “What proof did Daley find?”
“More conversations. He actually bugged the VP’s private office. Not all that hard, since he was the one charged with making sure it wasn’t being monitored. Seems the VP is connected to the Order of the Golden Fleece. Its head, Alfred Hermann, has arranged for the president’s plane to be missile-attacked. Made the deal with bin Laden’s people himself.”
“Stephanie, I hope Daley amassed some impressive proof. Those are incredible charges.”
“You said the whole administration was a cesspool. You said you wanted to get them. Here’s your chance.”
“How do we prove this?”
“The recordings are here. Daley told me about them. He said they indicated everyone who’s involved. We were leaving to drive back here when the car exploded.”
Green stood in the foyer before the stairway where Daley and Heather Dixon had been yesterday. He seemed deep in thought. His game face. Of course, though the man had lied to her about Thorvaldsen, and he hadn’t passed along to the president anything that Henrik had discovered, they needed concrete proof of his treachery.
“I know where he hid the recordings,” she said.
Finally Green’s eyes communicated interest. Cassiopeia stayed near the window, out of the way.
Stephanie led Green to the office alcove with the small desk and narrow bookshelves. One shelf held a row of CDs in their plastic cases. The music was all instrumental and from a variety of nations, even some Gregorian chants, which she found curious. She reached for one of the cases—Tibetan Wonders—and opened it. Inside, instead of the music CD, another disk filled the case. She popped it from the holder and said, “He liked to hide his stuff close by.”
“What exactly is on there?”
“He says it’s proof of who’s part of this conspiracy. He said it reached to a level no one would ever suspect.” Her nerves throbbed with excitement. “Want to listen?”
Green said nothing.
“Why’d you leak the Alexandria Link file?” she asked.
“I told you. To find the traitor. It led us several places. That’s how we discovered the Israeli connection to Pam Malone. Leaking that file set everything in motion.”
“And you had access?”
“Why the questions, Stephanie?”
“Because I was unaware you even knew about the Alexandria Link, much less knew enough details about it to think it would be bait for Israel.”
Green cocked his head sideways in a quizzical fashion. “This is unexpected. A cross-examination.”
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p; She wasn’t going to cut him any slack. Not now. “When we first talked about all this, you made it clear that you leaked the file on purpose, that it contained little other than a reference that Malone knew where George Haddad lived. Yet you specifically mentioned the Abrahamic covenant. How did you know?”
“The file wasn’t all that secret.”
“Really? That’s not what Daley said. He insisted the information inside it was sparse and relatively unknown outside a handful of top people.” She laced her words with insolence. “You weren’t on the list. Yet you knew an awful lot.”
Green stepped from the alcove and made his way back toward the den.
She followed.
Cassiopeia was gone.
Stephanie glanced around, concerned.
“My associates took care of her,” Green said.
She did not like the sound of that. “And who takes care of me?”
Green reached beneath his jacket and produced a gun. “I have that duty. But I needed to speak with you alone first.”
“To see how much I know? How much Cassiopeia knows? And who else knows?”
“I doubt you have help. After all, Stephanie, you aren’t the best-liked person in this government. Daley tried to latch on to you, but that didn’t work out.”
“Your doing?”
Green nodded. “We wired the car with explosives and waited for the right time. All part of the terrorist attack on this nation that will start with Daley and end with Daniels. This country will be worked into a frenzy.”
“Which the VP will exploit, after being sworn in. Then he’ll need a vice president, and that’s where you come in.”
“Not all that many opportunities to advance anymore, Stephanie. You have to take what comes along. I’ll be the perfect choice for the crisis. My confirmation will be unanimous.”
“You’re pathetic.”
He threw her a self-deprecating expression. “I’ll accept that. After all, you have only a few more minutes to live. By the way, you were supposed to become part of the attack. When you showed up at that restaurant I decided to add another layer, but you somehow managed to avoid the men that were sent. I still haven’t learned how you accomplished that one.”
“Good training. Makes all the difference.”
He threw her a cold smile. “I’ll miss that wit.”
“Do you realize what you’re doing? The violent overthrow of a duly elected president?”
“I believe it’s called treason. But Danny Daniels is a weak, inept man who doesn’t know what’s best for this country. He’s Israel’s friend, no matter what, and that alone has crippled us in the Middle East. It’s time for American favoritism to shift. The Arabs have so much more to offer.”
“And the Alexandria Link will do that?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s the new president’s problem, and he says he has it under control.”
“You want to hang around that bad?”
“I wouldn’t call being vice president of the United States hanging around. Since I aided the transition of power in such a critical way, I’ll have a unique relationship. Lots of responsibility and little visibility.”
She motioned at the gun. “You going to kill me?”
“No choice. That CD you have surely incriminates me. I can’t let it go, and I can’t let you go.”
She wondered where Cassiopeia had been taken. This was not unfolding according to plan. And she hadn’t expected Green himself to be toting a weapon. One thought flashed through her mind.
Stall.
“The attorney general of the United States is going to shoot me?”
“I’ve thought about it all day and, unfortunately, there’s little choice.”
“What about all those Christian values I’ve heard you talk about so much?”
“This is the heat of battle and the rules are different. It’s a matter of survival, Stephanie. As I said, I did listen to the recordings Daley saved on the flash drives. The VP’s chief of staff talked a lot about presidential succession. Too much. It’s not incriminating, but it would raise questions. Daley was obviously investigating. That disk you’re holding contains even more. It has to stop here. Of course, your body will never be found. There’s a coffin waiting at the Saudi Arabian embassy. One of their envoys died and wants to be buried at home. You’ll share a ride back to Arabia with him on a diplomatic flight.”
“Got it all figured out, don’t you?”
“Friends can be a good thing. I’m learning that. I went it alone for a long time, but I like being part of a team. The Saudis want only the destruction of Israel. We’ve promised that it can be done. The Israelis think the Saudis are working with them on this one. They aren’t. They’re working with us. Have been from the start.”
“They have no idea what double-dealing pieces of crap all of you are. It’s all about money and power. Nothing more.”
“Anything else you’d like to say?”
She shook her head.
And the gun fired.
EIGHTY-TWO
VIENNA
THORVALDSEN STOOD WITH GARY. HE’D CALLED JESPER JUST AS they’d left the schmetterlinghaus and told him to send a car and driver. As soon as he and Gary were on their way back to Copenhagen, he’d instruct his aide to release Margarete. He hadn’t bothered to retrieve their clothes. No time. Instead, all he held was the atlas from the library that contained the letters of St. Jerome and St. Augustine.
Cars were coming and going from the lane that led through the trees to the front gate. Not all Order members stayed on the estate. Many chose to visit with friends or enjoy their favorite hotels in Vienna. He recognized some of those arriving and took a moment to chat. That also allowed him to blend with what was happening. But they needed to leave, with the letters, before Hermann awoke.
“Are we in trouble?” Gary asked.
“I’m not sure.” And he wasn’t.
“You whacked both those guys pretty hard.”
He saw the boy was impressed. “I did, didn’t I?”
“Don’t want to be here when they wake up.”
Neither did he. “We must keep these letters, and I’m afraid our host will never allow that.”
“What about his daughter? He didn’t seem to care about her.”
“I don’t believe he ever did. Taking her was just something unexpected that caused him to pause long enough for us to act.” He thought of his own dead son. “Men like Alfred care little for family.”
And how awful that must be. He missed his wife and his son. Seeing Gary Malone rush to his defense had both frightened and pleased him. He patted the boy on his shoulder.
“What is it?” Gary asked.
“Your daddy would be proud.”
“Hope he’s all right.”
“Me, too.”
Three cars sped down the main drive and rounded the paved lane. They stopped at the château, and men emerged from the first and third vehicles, each dressed in a dark suit. A quick survey of the surroundings and one of the men opened the rear door of the middle car.
The vice president of the United States climbed out into the afternoon sunshine, dressed casually in a pullover shirt beneath a navy blazer.
Thorvaldsen and Gary stood twenty yards away and watched as security men flanked the vice president and they all strolled toward the château’s main entrance. Halfway, the vice president stopped and changed directions.
Heading straight for them.
Thorvaldsen watched the man with a mixture of anger and disgust. This ambitious fool seemed willing to do anything.
“Not a word, lad,” he said to Gary. “Remember, ears open, mouth shut.”
“I’ve figured that out.”
“You must be Henrik Thorvaldsen,” the vice president said as he came close and introduced himself.
“I am. A pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“None of that sir stuff, okay? You’re one of the wealthiest men in the world and I’m just a politician.”
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“What is the saying? One heartbeat away from the presidency?”
The American chuckled. “That’s it. But it’s still a rather dull job. I do get to travel, though, and I enjoy coming to places like this.”
“And what brings you here today?”
“Alfred Hermann and I are friends. I came to pay my respects.”
Another car cruised down the drive. A light-colored BMW with a uniformed driver. Thorvaldsen motioned and the car headed his way.
“Are you leaving?” the vice president asked.
“We have to go into town.”
The American motioned at Gary. “And who is this?”
Thorvaldsen introduced them, using Gary’s real name, and they shook hands.
“Never met a vice president before,” Gary said.
The BMW stopped and the driver emerged, rounding the car and opening the rear door for Thorvaldsen.
“And I never met the son of Cotton Malone,” the vice president said.
Thorvaldsen now realized they were in trouble. Which was doubly confirmed when he spotted Alfred Hermann parading their way, his chief of the guard in tow.
The vice president said, “Brent Green sends his regards.”
And Thorvaldsen saw Green’s betrayal in the man’s hard eyes.
“I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere,” the VP said in a low tone.
Hermann arrived and shoved the car’s rear door shut. “Herr Thorvaldsen will not need the ride. You may go.”
Thorvaldsen was going to protest, make a scene, but he noticed that the chief of the guard assumed a position beside Gary. A gun beneath the man’s jacket was pointed straight at the boy.
The message was clear.
He faced the driver. “That’s correct. Thanks for coming.”
Hermann relieved him of the atlas. “Your options are rapidly fading, Henrik.”
“I would say so,” the vice president said.
Hermann seemed puzzled. “Why are you here? What’s happening?”
“Bring them both inside and I’ll tell you all about it.”
EIGHTY-THREE
SINAI PENINSULA
MALONE WAITED UNTIL GEORGE HADDAD WAS SAFE BEHIND the bookshelf’s end cap, where he and Pam had assumed a defensive position.